


Where's my love

by Sambook009



Category: Dumbo (2019), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sambook009/pseuds/Sambook009
Summary: Newt has spent the past 8 years searching for his husband Percival who every believes died in the War. But Newt knows in his heart, in his soul that Percival is not dead.He's missing.And Newt was going to find him.
Relationships: Original Percival Graves/Newt Scamander
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. "Cold sheets, oh, where's my love? I am searching high, I'm searching low in the night"

Newt's gaze trails across the room.

The small Parisian pub he found himself in was quite quaint. Its atmosphere warm and cozy. With its wood and brick walls heavily warded against Muggles, wizards were allowed to celebrate the end of the war without the risk of exposing the magical word.

As his green eyes searched the pub, he spotted a house-elf serving drinks to laughing wizards and witches. When he first arrived, the magical creature had offered him a drink as well, which Newt kindly refused. He was never one for drinking, having always preferred tea. When he did have to drink, he would take a polite sip before leaving it untouched.

Taking his eyes away from the house-elf, he continues searching, seeing other wizards, but not the one he was looking for. His gaze eventually made its way to the small stage where a pretty witch was singing in french with instruments behind her, enchanted to play on their own.

In the center of the pub were people dancing and enjoying themselves. Soon the music slowed down, and the singer began singing a soft melody as couples matched their rhythm to the tune.

"May I have this dance?"

Hearing the familiar voice coming from behind him, Newt turned and felt himself flush.

His husband has always been a very handsome man. Still, now he looked particularly dashing in his olive green uniform with the crest of MACUSA on the shoulder patch. The American wizard was showing him a small smile, holding out a hand in invitation. The gold band on his ring finger gleams in the artificial light.

The sight of it swells Newt with a pleasant warmth. He returned the smile with a shy one of his own and took Percival's outstretched hand. "You may."

The older man gently pulls him in close, wrapping a strong arm around his waist. Newt closed his eyes and leaned into his husband's broad chest, resting his head on Percival's shoulder. Together they slow dance to the music.

For the first time in what seems like forever, the magizoologist was content.

They had survived the war. Both his husband and brother were alive and whole.

The Hungarian Ironebellies he had worked with were safely returned to their natural habitat. Newt had made sure of that. The dragons had served in the war, and like any other soldier, they deserve to go home.

Theseus was sitting at the barstool, drinking and joking with his fellow soldiers. When he saw them together, he shot them a grin and raised a glass before turning back to the others.

Percival was holding him and dancing with him, and soon they will go home.

Speaking of home.

His husband was leaving tomorrow to go back to America with the other wizards and witches that come from overseas. Newt had wanted to go with him since following their wedding, the Graves estate outside the city had become his home, but he was required to go back to London along with his brother. So this will indeed be their last night together for who knows how long.

The Americans were actually supposed to be at their MACUSA base.

However, Percival had pulled some strings along with Thesuase--using the excuse of international cooperation and unity to persuade the upper ranks to allow the American magic-users to mix in with the European magic-users.

Newt didn't care. He was just happy to have the two most important people in his world with him.

"You know we haven't danced like this since our wedding," Percival realized quietly, his voice causing his chest to rumble.

Opening his eyes, Newt looks at the other man who gazed back at him. "Has it really been that long?"

"I'm embarrassed to say it has."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. Darling, we both have been too busy." Percival, with his job as an Auror and Newt studying the magical beast outside Manhattan while also studying to get his degree to become a fully-fledged Magizoologist. Both their careers had taken a brief pause because of the war, but soon everything will return to normal.

Still, Newt made a silent promise that they should defiantly spend more time together. The war taught him that life was too brief and precious. It was meant to be spent with loves ones. Not fighting in some petty conflict, where no one truly won. Life was intended to be cherished.

As they continue to sway to the music, Newt could help but chuckle. "Remember when you promised me you were going to take me to Paris for our anniversary." It was such a silly thing to remember.

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind." Percival's face turns sheepish. "I was planning a more romantic gateway."

"We are dancing together in the City of Love. This is all the romance I need."

His husband looked unconvinced before he got a predatory glint in his eyes, his lips drawn into a coy smirk. He leans down until his lips where to Newt's ear, his breath causing the younger wizard to shiver.

"I'm sorry, Newt."

"What?"

Newt blink.

The pub was gone, and the others were nowhere to be seen. He stood alone on the outside of a burndown town. He blinks rapidly at the sudden daylight before he started taking in his surroundings.

That's when he heard it. The rumble of an engine starting and the voices of men.

"Cheer up, boys. We're going home."

Newt turn.

In front of him was a green army truck where some American soldiers were climbing into the back of. Percival emerges from behind the truck, quietly speaking to another man.

_No.No.No.NO!_

Before Newt could even scream. To run. To get away from there, the truck exploded.

Newt sat up, gasping and clutching his chest. Tears were running down his cheeks. The bellow of the ship horn blowing had torn him away from the memory turn nightmare. A man's voice echoing through the announcer.

**"Attention all passengers, this is your Captain speaking. We are due to arrive in New York harbor in approximately one hour. Please gather your belongings and have your passports ready."**

Newt sigh and once again lay down on his bed. Trying to steady his breathing and slow his heartbeat.

Lifting a hand, he uses his pajama sleeve to wipe away the tears that had formed. He then heard the familiar sound of the broken latch.

Gazing to his left, he saw a short snout followed by a furry head sticking out of his suitcase. As always, the niffler took every chance he could to escape.

"How many have I told you not to leave the suitcase."

The small creature looked at him before wiggling his entire body out and hopping onto the floor, already sniffing the air trying to locate any valuable items.

Newt scold, "You get back in the case right now or so help me you're grounded." Despite the stern tone, the fondness in his eyes betrays his true feelings.

It seems the niffler also knew it was an empty threat since he went straight towards him, climbing up onto the bunk bed using the sheets.

Newt sighs as the small critter clambers onto his blanket cover legs. Percival had always been the disciplinarian, not him. He was too softhearted.

The niffler began sniffing at his pajama shirt and then proceeded to climb in through his collar. He pulls out a gold wedding band strung onto a simple leather cord with a couple of sharp tugs.

Being a magizoologist meant constant travel and the use of his hands. Not wanting to risk losing his ring, he wore it around his neck. Newt knew that there were plenty of charms and spells he could use to avoid losing his wedding jewelry, but he rather enjoys the feeling of having it against his chest.

It felt like having a piece of Percival close to his heart.

A small part was also because he couldn't bear seeing the gold band, knowing its twin was missing.

Every time he looked at it, he would be reminded that his husband was gone, and everyone thought he was dead. Including his brother Theseus, but Newt knew in his heart, in his soul, that Percival wasn't dead.

He was missing, and Newt was going to find him.

The niffler held the ring, but instead of pocketing it as he would any other shining object he got his paws on, he let out a sad whimper and cuddled it to his furry chest.

Pain squeezed his heart, and Newt was reminded he wasn't the only one who misses his husband. He raised a hand and started stroking the small creature's back. "You miss Daddy, don't you?"

The niffler looks at him with sad, dark eyes and lets out another mournful whimper.

"I miss him too."


	2. "Ooh, don't wanna cry but I break that way"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Theseus, please picture Michael Fassbender.

New York was a lot more interesting than Newt thought it would be. It was also a lot more crowded, and he was happy to go back to England, where he hopes to see Theseus and try to mend their broken bond.

He knew Percy wouldn't want them to be cross with each other. It has been eight years since the two Scamander brothers had a proper conversation. One that had not been through an owl carrying a note informing the other was alive and well. And frankly, Newt misses his brother. 

The Auror had been close to his husband -being best friends, and all-and missed the other man almost as much as he did. Newt knew that Theseus hadn't tried to be cruel when he told him it was time to move on.

Their falling out had happened during the annual Christmas ball hosted by the Scamander's family. The first one Newt attended in 3 years. 

The past few years, he spent searching for Percival all across Europe. Having started in France and making his way across the continent. 

Theseus had practically begged him to come home for Christmas, and Newt had reluctantly agreed. _It shouldn't be so bad,_ Newt had thought as he got ready to take a port key. _Just a quiet Christmas with the family._

* * *

Newt stood awkwardly by the door, feeling a bit underdressed in his everyday clothes and holding his suitcase in his hand. Everyone else was dressed in beautiful ball gowns or black tuxedos. Mingling with each other over glasses of expensive wine while he stood by himself — a lonely strange island in a sea of people.

He was contemplating if he would be able to slip away without anyone realizing while mentally kicking himself for coming. Newt has always been bad with large crowds. He made up his mind when an older couple passed him to join the party. As he turned to leave, he heard someone calling his name, which stopped him in his tracks.

"Newt! You made it!"

"Hello, Theseus," Newt greeted and accepted the hug his brother gave him, albeit awkwardly at first. He took a step back, taking in the other's appearance. A full year had passed since he saw his older brother face-to-face instead of through a fire call. 

Theseus looked older, his face more severe, and his green eyes were hard yet still softer than during the war. However, the smile was the same charming, cheerful one as ever.

"You grew a beard."

Theseus blink at his brother's random observation and raise a hand to his face. "Yeah, I did," he said, touching the stubble, "Do you think it's too much? Mum said it was too much."

Newt smiled. "It suits you," he said sincerely, for once being the one to reassure his brother. Usually, it was the other way around. "It makes you look like a short-hair zouwu."

Theseus blink.

"That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me."

The younger Scamander furrowed his eyebrows, "That's not true… I once told you, you have eyebrows like a Demiguise."

"...Wait. I thought you said I had eyebrows like a hippogriff. That's what I've been telling everyone for years."

"Seus… Hippogriffs don't have eyebrows."

The two brothers stare at each other before bursting into laughter. The raucous noise threw the attention of some of the guests and as well as the host. They quiet down after their mother sends them a look.

"But, seriously. I'm happy you're here, little brother. It doesn't feel like Christmas without you." Theseus's eyes were warm as his smile, and Newt felt a bit guilty for not visiting his brother. He was just so preoccupied with searching for Percival and helping creatures in need. Still, his brother deserves better. He was the only one to support Newt in his search.

He was brought out of his internal guilt trip by Theseus, saying he had to leave to speak with some of the more prominent guests, and Newt should go and enjoy himself. Before he could say, "Doubt it." Theseus had left.

With his brother gone, Newt migrates to one of the solitary tables in the back and sits down.

As soon as his case touches the floor, a house-elf appears next to him, asking what drink he would like.

The magizoologist requested tea, and after the hot beverage was brought to him, he said his thanks and took a sip. Bless the nature of housel elves since the tea she brought him was peppermint, which soothes his stress and anxiety.

He didn't know how much time passed between taking sips of his tea and checking his case to make sure his creatures stayed inside. Especially a certain shiny-seeking, pilfering pest since with this crowd, there was more jewelry than people.

Newt closed the broken latch for the 15th time when he sensed someone sitting next to him. "Hello Theseus, how are you enjoying the party?"

"I'm not Theseus, and by the looks of it, I should be the one asking you that question."

The person sitting next to him was certainly not his brother, as he had assumed, but another man. He was tall and wearing a black and white tuxedo with his dirty blonde hair slick back. 

As always, Newt couldn't look him in the eye. Instead, he focuses on the lower half of the stranger's face, which held a charming smirk before a wine glass blocked it.

"Your accent, Danish, am I correct?"

The man blinks in surprise, lowering his glass before a pleased smile takes over. "Impressive, Mr. Scamander. Most people say it's Belgium, but yes, I am from Denmark."

"I recognized it from when I was in Skagen." 

Newt had gone to Scandinavia for a month to study the Kraken. Which he discovered that despite their fearsome reputation were relatively peaceful creatures. Only becoming aggressive when it came to hunting food. Barring when they were hungry, krakens were gentle sea-dwellers. The one he met reminded him of the Giant Squid that lives in the Black Lake at Hogwarts.

"My name is Hans Axgil-" the stranger introduced himself, "-but please call me Hans." He made no move to take Newt's hand, for which he was grateful. He couldn't even look people in the eye, much less shake hands which would cause most people to become offended, thinking him ill-mannered. Still, Mr. Axgil seemed like an understanding fellow. Percival would have liked him.

"Newton Scamander, but I prefer to be called Newt."

Introduction over, they settle into easy conversation. Newt learns that Hans was an art dealer who'd made his home in Paris and had frequently sold paintings to his parents and many other high-class families, both wizard and muggle.

"Art is universal," he said.

In return, Newt began telling Hans all about his travels and his work as a Magizoologist. Going around helping creatures in need and gently trying to educate his fellow wizards about them. 

Before either of them knew it, it was the height of the party, and the hall was packed with guests. Much more than when Newt had arrived. Most of the guests had paired off and began dancing on the ballroom floor while onlookers, including Hans and him, watched from the sidelines.

"Such a shame to be windowed so young," Hans said suddenly, looking away from the dancing couples.

Newt blinks, "I'm sorry?" 

What was Hans talking about? Widowed? Who was widowed? Maybe the older wizard was talking about himself. "I didn't know you were married."

Now it was the danish man's turn to look confounded. However, it was only for a fleeting second. "Oh no, I'm not," he clarified, "What I meant is that you are barely 22 years old and already a widow at the age where most are barely getting engaged." 

Wait. Hans thought he was a widow? But he wasn't. Percival was still alive.

Seemingly taking his confusion for sadness, the blonde man gave him a look of genuine sympathy. "I never had the chance to meet your husband personally, only his parents, when they were still alive. I sold some paintings to them when they traveled to Paris, and I knew them to be good people. Shame with the death of their son, the whole Graves family is now extinct."

"He's not dead," Newt's voice sounded quiet even to his own ears.

"Of course, those we love still lived on in our hearts, despite no longer being with us."

"No. I meant he's not dead," Newt stated firmly, for the first time raising his head to meet the other's gaze.

Hans blink, surprised at the sudden sharp tone that until now had been rather meek. "Oh dear, I think I may have crossed a line."

"I have to go." Newt grabbed his suitcase and got up. He should have never come here. He knows Theseus will be upset he left, but Newt will just apologize to him tomorrow and make it up to him.

"Newt, wait." Hans had gotten up as well and was holding a hand out almost as he was going to touch him, but stopped before there was any contact.

"It was nice speaking to you, Hans." Newt genuinely meant it. The man was interesting and shown to be a kind person. "I hope you enjoy the rest of the party." With those parting words, he began making his way through the crowds of guests. He was almost at the door when Theseus called his name.

"Newt, where are you going?" His brother was smiling cheerfully, although his eyes were filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. "You're not planning on leaving, are you?"

"I'm sorry, Theseus, but I must get going."

"But I thought you were having fun. I saw you talking with Hans, and you two seem to really hit it off."

"Yes, well-"

"I mean, I too was on the fence about him, but mum insisted, saying that it's time to move on. That you had your time to mourn Percival, and it's time you start fresh with someone else."

"What?"

"Why do you look so surprised, Mum told you..." Theseus trail off, the smile fading. "You didn't know."

"Theseus, please." Newt wanted to leave. He should have never come here. By now, everyone was started to turn their attention towards them. From the corner of his eyes, Newt saw his mother talking to Hans. Most likely trying to excuse her youngest son's atrocious behavior before she started making her way towards them.

"I'm sorry little brother," Theseus continue, not caring about the scene they were making. "But if it means that I have to tell you for you too to finally believe it, then I will."

"Theseus, please, not you too."

"Newt, he's gone, and he's never coming back.

"Stop Theseus, please. He's not gone."

_Please Seus. Please don't say that. Not you too. Don't give up hope. Not like everyone else has._ Newt wanted to beg his brother to stop. But his tongue had turned to lead.

"Newt, it's time to wake up. You and I were both there. We both read the letter. There were no survivors." Theseus's voice turns cold. And Newt watches as his brother was replaced with the wizard from the war. The one that had commanded. The war hero. The soldier.

"PERCIVAL IS DEAD!"

"STOP IT!" Newt screamed, letting out a burst of wild magic which sent Theseus flying backward and into a wall.

"Theseus!" their mother cried as she rushed to her oldest son's side, their fathers at her heels.

"Mum, It's fine," Theseus spoke to their mothers, but his eyes were fixed on Newt, along with every other person in the ballroom.

Newt took a step back, shame gnawing at his heart like a starving beast. He could feel the stares on him. The pitiful ones from the guests. The furious ones from his parents. But the one that hurts him the most was the guilt-fill one that came from his brother.

"I'm sorry," Newt whispered, clutching his suitcase to himself as a small child would with their blanket before he aperated out of there.

**Author's Note:**

> The fanfic was heavily influenced by the song, "Where’s My Love" by SYML. Fun fact, the story actually came first then I found this song which was perfect for it.


End file.
